


Wonder

by JuliaJekyll



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Girls Kissing, Mentions of past abuse, POV Alana, Pregnancy, Pregnant Alana, Tears, True Love, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana comes home from work to find Margot distressed, worrying about their baby. While trying to reassure her, Alana gets a bit of unexpected help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I can't stop writing Marlana fics. Someone send help. 
> 
> -Julia

When Alana got home from work on Thursday evening, she was tired and her back hurt despite the fact that she'd spent most of the day sitting while she saw patients. She was early in her fifth month of pregnancy now, her belly starting to show prominently and obviously, and the weight she'd gained was taking a bit of a toll, as was the persistent ache in her breasts. However, she smiled a little as she opened the door, remembering how Margot had run her hands over her abdomen the previous night, then kissed it over and over, crooning under her breath in her sweet voice to the baby inside who was waiting to be born.

All Alana wanted was to find Margot and sit with her, perhaps with both of their hands resting on Alana's belly, hoping to feel some sort of movement, while the fingers of Margot's other hand ran through Alana's hair...but as soon as Alana entered the house, she knew that wouldn't be happening, and her smile disappeared. The house was quiet—almost oppressively so, and the psychiatrist immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“Margot?” she called out tentatively. No response. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Alana got onto the moving chair Margot had had installed for her on their stairs and started it up. She still had a pronounced limp, and Margot had reasoned that it would only get more difficult for her to walk as the baby in her belly grew. It had been a very convenient addition to the small house they'd recently bought together, Alana had to admit.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Alana pushed herself up out of the chair and headed down the hall to the bedroom, her cane tapping on the floor with each step.

“Margot?” Alana tried again. Still no answer.

Alana reached the bedroom and pushed open the door. Their bedroom was dark, the curtains closed. Margot was lying on her stomach in bed, her head resting on her arms, her face turned toward the bedside table. She was asleep, but beside her was a pile of used tissues, the box from which they'd evidently come turned over on its side, and when Alana leaned down to look at her, she could just make out the black streaks of mascara on the other woman's face.

Alana crouched down beside Margot, laying her cane on the floor, and gently shook her girlfriend's shoulder.

“Margot? Margot, wake up, love.”

Margot jolted awake and looked up. “A-Alana,” she stammered, her voice husky, then began hurriedly trying to wipe her face with her hands, as if it weren't already obvious that she'd been crying.

Alana sat down on the bed, placing one hand on Margot's head and beginning to stroke her disheveled hair. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” she asked softly. “Talk to me.”

Margot shook her head, pressing her lips together, then shifted over to make room in the bed for Alana. “Hold me?” she asked, a pleading note in her constricted voice, fresh tears pooling in her blue eyes.

“Of course.” Alana kicked off her shoes, slipped out of her jacket, and lay down beside Margot, hugging her, feeling the small swell of her belly press against her lover's slim waist. Margot squeezed her eyes shut, allowing a few tears to escape, then brought a trembling hand to rest against Alana's abdomen, rubbing gently, not saying a word.

“Margot?” Alana asked gently. “Love, please, tell me what's wrong.”

Margot raised her eyes, and Alana's heart throbbed when she saw the pure fragility in them. Margot's beautiful face was a picture of haunted distress and sadness, as if she might shatter at any moment. She bit her lip, still touching Alana's belly, and then took a deep breath. “It's Mason's baby,” she said brokenly. “No matter what we do, it's Mason's baby, and I'm afraid.” She met Alana's eyes again. “What if my son hates me, too?”

“Oh, Margot.” Alana pulled her lover closer, holding her as tightly as she could. Margot sobbed a couple of times into her shoulder, and Alana felt tears spring to her own eyes. It was never easy to see Margot in pain—and she'd seen it before, many times, when Margot had told her about what her brother had put her through before his death. She hated it; it made her want to do the impossible: to destroy everything that could cause that beautiful, beloved face to be touched by anything but happiness. That was love, she supposed. The desire to go beyond the realm of the realistic for the sake of another person's smile, because their smile was the loveliest thing in the world.

“Margot,” Alana whispered into her girlfriend's ear. “This baby will never know your brother. He's going to know us, and how much we love him, and how much we love each other. We're going to give him our hearts—we have already. He's _our_ baby.”

Margot moved away, wiping angrily at her face. Alana took another tissue from the box and handed it to her. Margot blew her nose.

“Alana,” she said, crumpling the tissue in her fingers, “yes, we're going to raise him, but biologically, he _is_ Mason's child.”

“And mine,” Alana reminded her.

“Yes,” Margot conceded. “And I hope with all my heart that he'll be as wonderful and brave and caring as you, but there's the possibility that he could turn out like Mason. I'm terrified that that's what's going to happen. That's why I wanted to have my own baby...why I used Will.” Tears spilled from her eyes again as she remembered how Mason, after finding out about her pregnancy, had taken away not only her baby but her ability to carry a child at all. Margot covered her face and sobbed again, her hand straying to her own stomach—not an empty womb, but worse: a complete lack of a womb.

Alana took Margot into her arms again, pressing kiss after kiss into her hair, letting her cry. She couldn't pretend she hadn't thought about this, too: biology mattered, and Mason Verger, technically the father of this baby, had been a monster. She knew that she and Margot would be good to their child—he wasn't even born yet, and Alana already felt like she loved him more than life—but he would still have Mason's genes. There was no getting around that.

Margot sniffed. “What if he doesn't love me, because I'm not his real mother?” she asked, her voice pitifully quiet and miserable.

“Oh, baby.” Alana held Margot at arms length, then brushed her hair back from her wet face and laced her fingers through hers. “I can't tell you what's going to happen, or what he's going to be like,” she said, an admittance of the obvious. She knew better than to express her hopes as if they were facts. Margot wasn't naiive enough for that, not even in such an emotional state, and either way, Alana was not going to lie to the woman she loved. “All I can promise,” she continued, looking Margot straight in the eyes, “is that I'll do everything I can to show love to our son, that I'll raise him as best I can, and that, if it's in my power to prevent it, I will never, _ever_ let him hurt you.”

Margot blinked, then offered a smile. It was a weak, tearful ghost of a smile, but a smile nonetheless, and it melted Alana's heart. “I promise, too,” the heiress whispered. She slid under the blankets again, holding out her arms to Alana. “Come here,” she said.

Alana wrapped her arms around Margot again, leaning her head against the pillow. “I love you, Margot,” she said, sweetly but firmly.

Margot gave another little sob. “I love you, too,” she said. “I'm glad you're here. I need you here, with me.”

“I'm here, sweetheart. I've got you.”

“I've hardly been out of bed all day,” Margot admitted. Her voice was still sad, but Alana was glad that she was at least talking about something more ordinary now. “I could feel it coming on. This...sadness. I got dressed, put my makeup on, tried to stamp it out...but I couldn't.”

“It's alright, love,” Alana soothed. “You're not alone anymore. I'm going to help you through it.”

Margot gave her that weak smile again. “I know,” she said simply. She stroked Alana's face with her hand. “Can I kiss you, or is my face too gross?”

“Never,” Alana replied, smiling widely at Margot's returned ability to make a joke. She leaned in, and Margot gave her a light kiss on the lips. Her hands began to roam over Alana's belly again, stroking almost reverently.

It was then that Alana felt a stirring under her skin, a rippling shift of a movement. She stilled, and Margot's mouth fell open. She looked up at Alana, her eyes full of hesitant wonder. “Was that...did you...?”

Alana nodded. “The baby,” she said hoarsely. “He's moving.” 

"Moving,” Margot repeated, eyes wide with amazement as she pressed her fingers to Alana's abdomen. “Our baby. Moving. He's...” her voice cut off, her throat blocked by more tears, but not tears of despair this time.

Alana placed her hands on top of Margot's, and they both waited. A moment later, the baby moved again. Alana gasped at the sensation of her child moving inside her body, smiling so hard it hurt her face. She looked up, and when Margot met her eyes, she broke out into a genuine smile, too. “Oh, Alana,” she said softly. “He's moving.”

Alana picked up one of Margot's hands and kissed the palm. “He is,” she answered. She blinked hard, and the two women shared the moment together, relishing in the feel of their child stirring, holding hands and grinning like a couple of maniacs. Their worries had not come to an end, but they'd been suspended by the amazement and wonder of this new change, put off, shelved for another time. This moment, just like the baby, was for them and them alone.

Silently, Alana thanked the baby for choosing this moment to move for the first time. At the very least, he had excellent timing. 


End file.
